


The New Guard

by writerkimyumi96



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Blood and Injury, F/M, Gun Violence, Immortality, Oral Sex, References to Depression, Resurrection, Temporary Character Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29431386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerkimyumi96/pseuds/writerkimyumi96
Summary: A group of mercenaries are suddenly targeted for their mysterious immortality. The leader of the group and oldest known immortal, Kim Seokjin, is ready to give up for his unfulfilling life, until a newborn immortal seeks out their help. Has he finally found his life's purpose?
Relationships: Kim Seokjin | Jin/Reader, Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17
Collections: Netflix ReImagined BTS Valentine's Smut Collection





	The New Guard

**Author's Note:**

> My word.. I didn't think I would get through the first 100 words. Huge, huge thanks goes to @hisinshiine for kicking my ass back into gear and hosting this exciting event!
> 
> Big shout out to the ladies who worked hard on this series!
> 
> To the readers, thank you for the love, always. Enjoy this series and be sure to check out each story from these fantastic authors!
> 
> Xoxo...

_SEOKJIN POV_

The year is 2021. 

The bus we’re riding is sickeningly full. I’ve seen my fair share of a pandemic-stricken world, but it’s the first time I’ve seen an era so careless in dealing with it. I have learnt the hard way that money turns the axis of human behavior - humans who fear not a virus that could render your lungs incapable of functioning, but will rather shake to the core at the thought of an empty belly. Oh, how the leaders fill their bellies at the expense of their people! That’s something that never changed through the decades.

Booker was knocked out cold beside me, oblivious to the bumps along the road which caused his skull to knock against the window more times than was considered normal. Drunk bastard! But he was considerably more efficient when he was intoxicated, so I let him be. I turned to my right where, on the bench across, the lovers sat canoodling, oblivious to - well, just about everything. Jimin always wanted to visit this side of the world, and in all our years working together, this was the first time we needed to. Taehyung on the other hand, didn’t care where we got called to, as long as Jimin was there. Love did that to people.

I could feel it, Taehyung’s exact feelings, as Jimin gazed out the window and voiced his amazement at the sight of the mountain tops being hugged by cotton clouds. Once, long ago, I too had felt as if I could conquer the world with the love of my life beside me. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes to shut out Taehyung’s feelings, but the full bus meant a tornado of emotions from strangers I couldn’t escape, even as faint as those feelings were, they were still very much present for me to feel.

I tried to recall my own feelings in an effort to drown out the rest. Lately, I wasn’t feeling much at all. There was this lingering despondency hanging like a dark cloud above my head, from all of my failed attempts to find purpose in my long life. I was simply existing, and part of me understood why Booker subjected himself to the short otherlife at the end of a bottle. I could never stomach the smell, or I too would have doused my sorrows in liquor. 

I nudged Booker with my elbow as our stop came to view and gathered my backpack from between my legs. He grunted and wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth before cracking his neck to the side. “Fuck. How long was I out?”

“Exactly two minutes and twenty eight seconds.” I chuckled as I tossed a glance at my wristwatch. 

“How much do I need to drink to get five?”

“Probably enough to seize your liver.”

“Still couldn’t kill me.” There was no humour in that claim. Booker was shamelessly suicidal ever since his son passed away. I didn’t blame him, but it irked me because as much as I hated my own life, the feeling wasn't strong enough to let go of it. Oftentimes I wondered if the normal human experienced as much death as we did. Did little pieces of them die along with a broken heart, or a family member passing? Maybe those pieces died and they just didn't know it the way we did. So what gave them the will to live on? Was it love?

Jimin and Taehyung were genuinely happy, and I suppose my answer lied there, right in front of my eyes, two souls sharing one life. I could feel Jimin's happiness oozing out of him like a shining beam, and I didn't want to be the one to damper his mood. 

"Tae," I stood up and slung my bag over my shoulder, "You two should ride on. Booker and I will meet with Copley."

Taehyung looked up, surprised, whereas Jimin beamed at me. "You sure?”

I placed my sunglasses on my face and patted his shoulder. I could sense his unease, but soon, when it was just him and the man he loved alone, he wouldn't feel that way. 

"You know," we watched as the bus took off again, "Our rule is to never use the same contractor twice." 

I received a neat pat on my back from the Frenchman, "Seems you're forgetting what a hefty sum we got paid for the job in Morocco."

"There were kids involved."

It was always like that. Booker lived for the money whereas I, in my quest to find true meaning of my life's purpose, did this work to actually save people. But the chaos unfolding all across the globe made our efforts seem futile. Maybe that’s why I felt the way I did; I fancied us a group of Earth’s protectors, but here we were in the center of mayhem that seemed impossible to correct. A job was a job after all, but being contracted to the same person twice put us in danger of being found out. And we went to great lengths to conceal the true nature of our beings in all the years we have lived through. 

We were not the only ones to hop off at the stop. A group of adolescents ahead of us grouped together to take a picture with the ocean serving as a backdrop. I realized too late that I had somehow managed to photobomb them, and quickened my step to catch up with them before they rushed off.

I reached my hand out and smiled at the young man holding his cellphone up. “Here, let me take it for you.” 

Overjoyed, and perhaps already buzzing from an intoxicant, he threw me the phone and got back to posing with his peers. I quickly deleted the photo with me in the back, then took a couple of shots for the youngsters.

“Close call.” Booker walked up to me with an iced americano for me and a black for the aftermath of his binge-drinking. 

“We’re surrounded by close calls. The only thing good about this job is coming to this country.”

“I like it here. Just picture it Jinnie, we could own any one of those buildings.” he pointed to our left, “And wake up to this everyday.” he waved towards the beach. 

I took it in, all of it. The splendid view of creamy white sand, the luscious waves of blue water cascading across, the waves turning foamy white as they reached the shore. It was tempting, no doubt, to retire along the coastline of Durban, where morning brisk walks down the pier to watch early fishermen cast their rods could become routine. Yet there remained a nagging sense of duty that prevented me from settling in one place. 

"You know there's no retirement for our line of work."

Booker grunted in response as we neared the cafè where our meeting had been set up. Copley, who was hiding behind an outdated newspaper, stood up and gestured towards our seats. Three years ago, we were contracted to rescue a group of school children held hostage in a museum heist in Morocco. Three years had taken its toll on the man, I noticed from the bags under his eyes and the dry cracks rupturing his lips. He'd lost weight too. It seemed that a part of him had died, but it wasn’t my place to question which. Nobody ever questioned mine.

“Gentlemen, we meet again.”

“Not under very pleasant circumstances.” I lifted my sunglasses off my eyes and sat back, folding my arms. “The job, Mr. Copley?”

“Right, straight to it then.” his own uneasiness was present in the way he wrung his hands before picking up a file from the left corner of the table. “I’m afraid it’s another hostage situation.” 

I took the file and flipped through the pages - personal details of the captured girls but nothing containing information about the abductors. “Who are we dealing with?”

“We’re not quite sure yet. All we received was this, and a sense of urgency to find these girls.”

I nodded as I continued flipping through the pages in search of some sort of red flag. I found nothing, slammed the file shut and handed it to my comrade. 

  
“Tomorrow.”

Copley seemed relieved and Booker was grinning like an idiot. I didn’t care for much chit-chat, so we bid farewell and left the American at the cafe to do some regular tourist stuff. I wasn’t as interested as the rest of my group, because in all honesty, I would have preferred to entirely erase my memory of South Africa.

***

We checked into one of the five star hotels close to the beach that evening. The sun had already set and I had reached my quota of sight-seeing for the day. Tomorrow was strictly business, and the team had to be briefed before we even considered sleep. Jimin and Taehyung called to let us know they would be back in an hour, so Booker and I passed the time flipping through the tv channels. My ear caught the mention of the progress of a vaccine, so I told Booker to turn up the volume.

{“ _The perpetrators responsible for the disappearance of nearly two million vaccines have yet to be apprehended. We have Detective Y/L/N with us today. Detective Y/L/N is from the Metropolitan Police Department and leading the nationwide hunt for the unknown criminals. Detective, I think I speak for the country when I ask, where have our vaccines gone?”}_

The screen split to accommodate a second live recording where the detective who was mentioned appeared. My heart refused to beat for a split second when she came on, and I had to blink to come back to reality. In all my years walking this Earth, I had never seen a woman as fierce and beautiful all at the same time. Her hair was neatly pulled back, her face void of any products - she just radiated a natural beauty unlike anything I had ever seen. My entire being must have froze, because a pat on my back felt like the hand had hit ice. I startled and turned to find Booker guffawing beside me, throwing beer breath in the air. 

"You okay man?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." 

"You look anything but. C'mon, we've seen worse crimes."

"It's - it's just strange."

"We live and breathe strange." 

{ _"The president has offered all available resources to catch the criminals behind the theft of the vaccines. We have a lead, but at this time we cannot disclose any information that might interfere with the case."}_

She spoke eloquently, calm and composed. There was something in her voice that assured me that she could be trusted, and clearly the news anchor was satisfied with her response just as well. Booker continued rummaging through channels and offering to give up a can from his half-empty six pack. I refused and laid back, replaying the images of the pretty detective as I closed my eyes. 

"What do you think those two are up to?" 

I sighed and opened my eyes to a fight scene from Karate Kid. "Probably a romantic dinner on the rooftop. I don't know." Fucking Booker, wouldn’t give me a chance alone with my own thoughts.

"You ever miss it?" 

"It's been ages Book. I forgot what it feels like." I despised the fact that he knew me so well - knew that it wasn’t the actual news that paled my skin, but my own inner turmoil. The Frenchman and I had our opposing beliefs, but we both understood the pain of loss and the tragedy of feeling lonely. I wouldn’t admit it, but I missed being with someone, missed feeling complete. I was just a stray half of a puzzle without any hope of feeling whole again. I had long lost the warmth of my significant other, and the cold brutality of the world became my driving force. 

"Have you ever thought of finding someone?"

I shook my head, perplexed that he would even suggest that. Booker once told me that after his wife, he could never love again. I didn't believe him then, but as the years passed, he seemed unbothered. His love for liquor and gore seemed to fill his void, and I forgot that he might be just as lonely as I was. 

The lovebirds were late by fifteen minutes, but the pure joy plastered on both their faces made it impossible to tell them off about it. I showed them the file we received from Copley, and preparations began for the extraction tomorrow. 

“Jimin, you’ll be lookout tomorrow. The rest of us go in, free these girls, and get them to safety.”

Taehyung nodded then spoke up, “Has a safehouse been allocated?”

“Yes. Copley sent the coordinates to our GPS.” Booker spoke without looking up from his laptop. He was in charge of the technical side of our missions.

“It’s a quick in and out job.” I was assuring myself more than I was the rest of my team. “Booker, have you checked all the exits? We don’t need any surprises.”

Booker looked up and threw me a huge grin, “Everything seems clear. We need to leave before dawn so nobody sees us.”

“Right. Get some rest guys.”

Taehyung and Jimin left our room to get to their own. Booker was close to passing out on the couch, so I made my way to bed. As I laid awake in bed, the image of the woman and the conversation with Booker earlier, flooded my mind at the expense of sleep. Nights like these meant quiet moments to wonder what life would be like if I found my soulmate just as Jimin and Taehyung had found each other. I wasn’t interested in love alone, because love gave pain where it should have healed. 

***

I strapped my boots on and took up my weapons, the final touch being my trusted axe - a gift from King Taejo when I intercepted an assassination attempt. The sun had not risen yet, and the streets were bleak as Taehyung drove us to the location where the girls were being held captive. The GPS brought us to the outskirts of some town, where the land was barren from any lifeforms, and only a large warehouse looking building stood at the centre. We were on high alert, making sure we weren't being followed, or worse, pulling up to a surprise ambush. Taehyung maneuvered the car nimbly to the back of the building, and as quiet as possible, we stepped out and took positions to enter the building. The sound of birds chirping their morning song was the only thing that could be heard. I signaled for Booker to unlock the door, and within seconds we were inside with Jimin keeping guard at the door. 

"Jim, come on." I beckoned the stealthy man back to the group. It was too quiet, which could mean one of two things: we were in good time or something awaited us inside the building. Booker took the first step into the dark, and just as we were about to aim our guns over our arms, a sharp light penetrated through the entire room, momentarily blinding us. 

All I heard then was the rush of rubber soles along the concrete, a canister falling to the floor near our feet which released smoke. Then, the bullets flew across the room. Taehyung died first with a shot to his head, and after Jimin's painful outcry as he witnessed the man he loved take his last breath, slid to the floor to join him, their lifeless bodies side by side. Booker yanked me out of harm's way, only to take a bullet to his chest and leave me vulnerable to a lethal shot. There was no time to comprehend our circumstances or even think where I had been hit. My left cheek froze to the concrete floor and everything became cold, excruciatingly painful, but oh so cold and dark. 

I have never been able to track the seconds or minutes it took before I was revived. Quite frankly, I did not care. How can one care about the time it took between death and life when we barely knew what we truly were? It just sprung upon us out of nowhere. One day we took our last breath, then we breathed again only to take countless ‘last-breaths’. The recurrence of life was by no means surprising. All we did was wait for death to be eternal. For me, six centuries on, I prayed for that white light every single day, but all I got was a dark tunnel which led me back to the hazy light of the real world. It couldn’t have been very long before my heart began to beat again, because when I opened my eyes I saw black boots a few feet from where we laid like massacred soldiers. Booker winked and sprung into action, breaking a knee and turning the gun to its owner’s chin. Red flashed like fireworks through the air, and I lifted my axe and swung it across, taking down three at a time. Jimin, with his trusted fists and sadistic kicks, took down two and led one to Taehyung, who, with an equally sadistic grin plastered across his face, shot the masked figure between the eyes. I heard him say “That’s for shooting my man you worthless bastard!” but only in his head. Taehyung, for all his brutality, possessed the tongue of an angel and wouldn’t dare speak the words out loud. We were all panting, drenched in sweat and the blood of our slayers, because our own wounds had already healed. But the wound of betrayal lay thick in the air, as we realized that we were framed. 

I nodded towards the cameras in the corners, watched as my team’s faces fell in disappointment as realization came over them too. We gathered our weapons and rushed outside, but the black van was speeding too far ahead. Not far enough that I couldn’t feel their fear. Yes, Copley, I thought, you should be afraid. 

***

We had to lay low while we tracked him. Booker was on it, but in two days, he hadn’t made any progress. I was sure they were looking for us, just as we were. Nobody sends military-trained personnel to kill four people, watch them die before their eyes and just forget the whole thing. I was sure there was more to this than just wanting us dead. Copley knew about us and needed it recorded. 

“Why would he do that? We trusted him!” Jimin was furiously pacing the floor of the secret hideout I had taken them to. A deserted cabin in George which the rest of the team didn’t even know existed. It’s not that I didn’t trust them with this information; it was just sacred to me. 

Despite the gorgeous scenery and crisp ocean air, Jimin was seeing red. He refused to calm down or eat or tend to Taehyung. 

“We’ll find him. And I’ll make sure he pays for what he did.” I grabbed the shorter man’s shoulder and stopped him from taking another step. “You need to rest, we all do.”

He shook his head and shrugged out from my hand, then walked up to Booker. “I don’t know what’s taking you so long Sebastian.” Jimin preferred to call people by their first real names. “You should have found him already.”

“My love, please calm down. I’m sure he’s doing all he can.” Taehyung didn’t sound convinced. I wasn’t either, but being angry and exhausted did none of us good. Booker took a swig of his beer and carried on typing on his laptop, but his eyes behind the screen were drained and lifeless. 

I had to put my foot down, sternly ordering them as their leader to get a bit of shuteye so we could be refreshed for another day of searching, another day of the unknown. I had to mentally scold myself to find rest too, only to be hauled into another surprise.

It didn’t feel like a dream. What I saw in my mind’s eye was more real and raw than I could have imagined. If I could have had it my way, I would have liked to see her in better circumstances. But there she was, gasping for air, taking her last breath as a set of headlights illuminated her face. Blood trickled around her on a dark road, and as she sighed, I felt my chest tighten and I was awake in an instant. It was Taehyung who knocked on my door covered in a blanket of sweat, eyes big and round when he turned on the bedside lamp.

“Who is she Jin?” 

I shook my head and threw the covers off my legs. “I’ve seen her on tv Tae. Detective Y/N? I think that’s her name.”

“She’s one of us.” Booker said flatly as he entered the room behind Jimin. 

“Why now?” Jimin reached for Taehyung’s hand and took a seat on the bed.

“I have no idea. But we have to find her before they do.” 

The men in the room nodded their agreement. Taehyung left the room and came back a few minutes later with a piece of paper torn out of a book. “This is what she looks like.”

I took the sketch and examined it. Taehyung was skilled with a pencil, but even his drawing didn’t really capture her true essence. Something sparked in me again, like the first time I saw her on the news - the desire to protect her at all costs. Only now, the urgency to do that was not for my own benefit. She was immortal, just like us, and if we were being targeted, she was in more danger than the regular human.

“I’ll go.” I folded the sketch and tucked it into my back pocket, even though I didn’t need it. Her face had been imprinted in my mind, even before the dream my brothers and I shared. “Make sure they don’t send anyone after me.” 

It didn’t take much to find her. The detective working on a high-profile case such as the theft of vaccines ordered by the government was headline news. What interested reporters more than the accident, was the fact that she had survived, laying in a hospital bed where her injuries had miraculously healed in less than a day. Medical miracles were few and far between, and it wouldn’t be long before she was turned into a labrat. 

I waited until the doctor left her room and made sure the corridor was empty before I went in. But as I reached the door, my feet felt leaded and I found myself hesitantly clutching the door handle. The dumbest thing came to mind at that moment: I wondered if I was dressed well enough. I went as far as glancing down to my ripped denims and white sneakers. Damnit Seokjin! Pull yourself together! This was not a date. I frowned at my reflection in the metal doorframe. What kind of six-hundred-year-old fool was I to care about my attire when meeting a new immortal? Surely she had not affected _that_ much that I couldn’t be sensible anymore. Luckily, the neighbouring door croaked to snap me out of my stupidity, and I rushed inside before I second-guessed myself.

The bed was empty when I got inside. I heard the toilet flush and straightened my spine, preparing myself for her reaction to a stranger she had never met. Soft footsteps padded out from the bathroom, and I stood frozen with my back against the door.

“Who are you? You don’t look like a nurse and I’m not seeing any visitors.” She sounded uninterested as she made her way back to the bed. As if she was alone in the room, she removed her navy gown and threw it across the bench, then lifted the sheet and proceeded to climb into bed. “If you’re here to kill me, I hope you have a method that works.”

“I’m not here to kill you Y/N.”

“Then lose the gear and explain to me how you know my name.”  
  


I took a deep breath before I pulled the mask covering half my face down. Her eyes narrowed as she inspected my face, and all she did was lean back into the pillow and fold her arms across her chest. 

“My name is Kim Seokjin and you need to come with me.” I took a cautious step forward, only taking another when she didn’t display any signs of alarm. 

“Why should I come with you?”

“Because I know what you are and I am just like you.”

“Oh. So you’re a detective then?”

As I drew closer, I felt my heart rate quicken. Perhaps it was her captivating eyes in all their seriousness, or her diffident reaction to what I had just said. She was unbothered, or at least that’s the look she wore for me, because oddly I could not sense her feelings. I never had to _try_ before, yet here I was trying to break through an invisible wall.

“I’m not a detective, Y/N. But you already know that.” I was at the foot of the bed, bravely resting my hands on the rail. Without the insight to her feelings, she was unpredictable to me. 

“How have you not aged?” she tilted her head to the side as she studied my face again.

I frowned at that enquiry, wondering where on Earth she had seen me before. Had our paths crossed when she was younger? How was my face recognizable to her? All these questions must have been written on my face, because I had just opened my mouth to speak when she continued. “I’ve dreamt about you ever since I turned eighteen.”

“It doesn’t make any sense, I haven’t seen you before.” 

“Nothing makes any sense!” her arms flew up, “I _died_ last night, with what must have been fractured ribs and broken limbs. Yet here I am as fit as a fiddle, and here you are and I feel like I’ve known you all my life.”

“You’re an immortal.” 

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, “There is no such thing.”

“You said it yourself. You died last night, and I witnessed you take your last breath in my dream. It’s pretty self-explanatory.”

"Your dream?"

"It was more like a projection of real events playing out in my mind while I was asleep. Like a live recording of some sort. You see, Y/N," I moved towards the bench and took a seat, "When an immortal is born, the rest of us can see them. It makes it easier to find each other."

"How many are there?"

"As of right now, five." 

"Why are you the only one here?"

"I am the oldest."

"You don't look much older than I am."

I chuckled as I sat forward with my arms on my thighs, "I have lived for a very long time."

"Okay, old man, where are we going?"

YES! Finally, she was convinced enough to come with me. I had a feeling she was more intuitive than she first let on, but I was genuinely ecstatic that she was willing to come with me. Why, I didn't know at the time. But all I knew then was that I had never felt this sudden rush of excitement after meeting a newborn. I'd had to strangle the French soldier to death when I first got to France. Jimin and Taehyung were more open to the idea of joining our crusade on the condition that they would never leave each other's sides. But here was Y/N, already climbing out of bed and slipping her dress off on the other side of the bed. She changed into a pair of denims and white shirt, twisted her hair into a tight bun, grabbed her shoulder bag and went straight to the door. It was her who turned to find me stunned, my ass nailed to the bench so I didn't move. 

"Are we doing this or not?" 

*** 

_Y/N POV_

I had to stop looking at him. _Look elsewhere Y/N._ I looked at the door the moment he stood up. I'd done well so far in acting coy, I wasn't about to give up what this all really meant to me.

Of course, I didn't believe him. The whole thing sounded absurd, and saying it loud made me feel crazy. I don't believe that I died last night. There's no fair explanation for walking away without a scratch, but there could be exaggeration in my mind about how bad the accident had been. 

I was more interested in why he came here, made up some bullshit story about being immortal, and was now leading me to some hideout. One thing I do know is that last night was no accident. So if this guy was somehow linked to the truck that hit me, I was going to find out. 

We were on the first plane out to God-knows-where. My concentration span was cut to nil the moment I laid eyes on him. I wondered if he picked up on what I said. " _I’ve dreamt about you ever since I turned eighteen."_ He barely commented on it, just said it was strange. It was strange that I dreamt about this man - vivid, fantastical dreams about ancient wars. Even as a detective, I never thought that he existed in my world or to even put a name to his extraordinarily handsome face. In the dreams, he wore silk robes and historic headgear, wielding a weapon that looked like it was crafted from the pages of a comic book. Here he was, resting his head on the seat, eyes closed and feigning sleep. I knew he was pretending because I'd caught his drifting eye peeking from beneath his thick lashes. I think he expected me to flee, hit the red button for the door and fly out with an emergency parachute. Hah! I guess I was curious to see where we were going, meet the rest of these "immortals" he spoke of. Curious and suspicious, even though it felt like I'd known him. Perhaps it was mere coincidence that the man from my dreams, the man I'd come to know as a warrior prince of some sort, would be linked to my investigation and subsequent murder attempt. Or maybe there was more.

George. That's where we arrived. I recognized the airport since I'd been there a few times. We took a cab to some remote location behind the mountains, walked the rest of the way along rocky and sandy terrain to get to a cabin hidden by greenery. He tapped thrice on the door, which was opened by a tall, brown-haired and blue-eyed man, who smirked and reeked of alcohol. What kind of dodgy operation was this? No way, I thought, that these two worked for Merrick.

"Come on in." 

I followed Seokjin inside the lowly lit cabin, the only light filtering through from a crackling fire inside. Two men stood over the fireplace, one poking the wood with a rod, the shorter one giggling lightheartedly. They turned when they heard us come in, and the laughter died down. That’s when I realized I had seen them all in some of my dreams. Not as much as I had seen the man named Kim Seokjin, but I was certain their faces had visited me before. 

“Wow!” the dark-haired man exclaimed. “This is the newborn?” 

“Stunning! Hi.” his blonde friend moved forward and stretched his hand out to shake mine. “I’m Jimin. Park Jimin.”

“Hi Jimin, Park Jimin. I’m Y/N.”

“Oh, we know who you are! I’m Taehyung.” 

I shook Taehyung’s hand too, inspecting both their faces just as they were mine. My mind raced with a million questions, and it was the man who opened the door who came to the rescue.

“Give her some time to settle in and help me with the search. I’m Sebastian, but you can call me Booker.” He smiled at me, but didn’t pester for a handshake.

“You haven’t found him yet?” Seokjin shrugged out of his jacket and followed Booker to a desk set up near the fireplace, wearing a look of deep concern. Booker shook his head and pointed to his laptop screen. “The last time a camera picked up Copley was that morning. He’s been hiding well.”

“Copley? As in James Copley?” 

Everyone in the room turned at my enquiry. Clearly, we were speaking about the very same man. Seokjin straightened up and lifted his brows at me.

“How do you know James Copley?”

“His name came up during my investigation.”

“The missing vaccines?”

I nodded. “Copley was a CIA operative who quit a year ago. He’s been working security for a few months in a private company, and was in charge of seeing the vaccines safely delivered. We had surveillance placed on him, and he was seen visiting a pharmaceutical company. I have reason to believe he sold the vaccines to them. We know he met with two foreigners a few days ago, and we've been trying to find them.”

Seokjin chuckled without any humour. "You've been looking for us."

"What were you doing for him? Did it have anything to do with the vaccines?"

“It doesn't matter. And no, we're not sure. What’s the name of the company?”

“Merrick. Owned by a Steven Merrick.”

“Booker, look into that.”

“What’s going on here?”

“We were assigned to a job and we were betrayed by Copley. We’re trying to locate him.”

“He’s in France. And Merrick has a lab there.”

“You were investigating Merrick?”

“They offered to produce new vaccines at a higher cost. When I found out that Copley has ties to them, I suspected that Merrick was behind stealing the ones the government already paid for.”

Jimin gasped at that moment, and when I turned to look back, he was tugging on Taehyung’s arm. “Our immortality, babe. They would have used us as lab rats.”

“So the immortality thing _is_ true?” 

“What? You don’t believe it?” Booker scoffed from behind his desk.

“Of course not. Why would I?”

“We all saw you die Y/N.” Taehyung spoke up, humour in his voice only solidifying the absurdity of all of this. 

“I didn’t die.”

“You’re going to now.”

I recognized Booker’s voice from behind me, then felt my gun exit the holster at my hip. It took a split second to realize I had my own gun pointed at my back, and only another split second it took to fire a shot. But the bullet grazed the air beside me and went straight through Taehyung’s chest. He collapsed to the ground and took Jimin with him. I heard Seokjin yell at Booker, and Jimin vowing to kill him, but none of them sounded too concerned about the man who was just murdered in front of my eyes. A pair of warm hands touched my shoulders, reminding me to breathe.

“He’s gonna be fine Y/N. Come with me, please?” 

“He shot him! He was gonna shoot me!” 

“Jimin, take him to the room to recover.”

“Recover?! He’s dead!”

Seokjin shook his head and clicked his tongue as he pulled my gaze away from Jimin and Booker lifting Taehyung from the floor. “I promise he’s gonna be fine.” he dropped his hands and placed one in mine, holding firmly as he led me out of the cabin. 

“Booker wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“He was trying to kill me.”

“You can’t die. Neither can Taehyung or any of us for that matter.”

I tried to stand my ground, but Seokjin seemed adamant to drag me up a hill away from the cabin. I huffed as I stomped my feet to keep up with his massive steps, willing my mind to maintain my anger and not get carried away by how effortlessly hot he looked when he was determined. He finally let me go and took a seat on the ground, folding his arms over his knees. I sat down beside him and followed his gaze as he looked out over the hill into the far horizon where the sun was beginning to set behind the ocean.

“Let’s just say I believe any of this, will you at least tell me how old you are?” 

“I was born in 1365.”

“How? I mean, how is any of this possible?”

Seokjin shrugged and continued looking far ahead. “One day I was normal, just like you were a couple of days ago, the next I woke up in a tent without a trace of the dagger which had pierced my heart on the battlefield the day before. But I wasn’t alone.”

“Another immortal found you? Was it Booker?”

“No. I was the one who found Booker many years later. The immortal who found me - her name was Quynh.”

“Where is she now?”

“Nobody knows. I can feel her sometimes, her anger. She was accused of witchcraft and cast to the bottom of the ocean in an iron maiden.”

“Have you tried to find her?”

“For decades we searched, but we decided it was pointless. Quynh made her own choices which led to that kind of punishment.”

I wanted to ask more, but when I saw his expression, I decided it was better not to. There was more to Quynh's story that made him sad, and no longer in doubt about my fate as a mysterious immortal, I found myself rather thinking up ways to clear the sadness in his eyes. Even depressed, this man was beautiful. In real life, just inches away from me, he was dreamlike, and it was hard to believe that _this_ was real. For years, I had dreamt about him, often blaming him for my failed attempts at real relationships when nobody I met measured to the standards he had set for me. Sometimes I found myself tangled in fantasies and silk white sheets with the man; things I wouldn't dare say to his face simply because of shame. I wondered how he would react to that, but a man who had lived this long could not possibly be affected by tales of impossible sexual endeavors. But it was too soon - we had just met - and I'd rather fall from the cliff than talk about my wet dreams. 

"If I close my eyes, I can feel my chest tightening on that last breath."

"It takes years of getting used to. Doesn't get easier, but you learn not to think about every death."

"I'll keep that in mind."

***

Taehyung was alive. Maybe I wasn't entirely convinced before we got back to the cabin, but as soon as we walked in and I saw him sipping on a hot beverage, I realized the extent of what we are.

Immortal. 

It's not everyday that you discover something like that. I always felt different growing up, but never imagined that one day I would just stop aging. There was only so much I could process in one day, that's why when I absentmindedly raked through dinner's peas with a fork instead of putting a single bite into my mouth, Seokjin gently urged me to get some rest. But I had been tossing and turning for almost two hours, and I was becoming impatient. 

I was burning up from the inside out, waking up with a start covered in sweat. The glass on the bedside table was empty, and I groaned from the dry ache in my throat. I needed water, desperately, and too urgently to care that I was wearing an overgrown t-shirt I'd found in the wardrobe, and nothing else. I stole through the dark and found my way to the kitchen silently, poured myself water from the tap, and gulped it down in one go. 

"You're still awake." 

My hand flew up to my mouth to cover the shocked gasp I tried to swallow back in. It had been so dark that I hadn't noticed that Seokjin was there, seated at the kitchen table with an empty glass under his nose. I couldn't make out if it was alcohol or if he too felt hot and came out for some cooling down. Despite the water, I was beginning to feel hot again, as if I was caught doing something I shouldn't be. I then remembered the absence of underwear, and my reflexes kicked in as I stepped back into the shadows and crossed my arms over my chest.

"I didn't mean to wake you." I whispered apologetically.

“You didn’t. I couldn’t sleep.” 

When he looked up from his empty glass, his eyes glittered with a darkness I didn’t imagine he owned. Usually soft and radiating warmth - he seemed upset and cold. 

“You okay?” 

He shrugged in response and kept his eyes focused on me. I hoped he hadn’t noticed that behind the table, my legs were bare.

“There’s something I have to ask you.”

“Uhm. Okay?” I would have just stood there if he didn’t tilt his head to the seat next to his. Cautiously I moved at snails’ pace, trying my best to hide how inappropriately I had dressed. Luckily the darkness saved me.

Seokjin leaned against the table, folding his arms. He sighed heavily before he spoke.

  
“You said you’d dreamt about me for years. What kind of dreams were they?”

I wrung my hands and fidgeted on my seat as I felt embarrassment rise to the surface. Why was he asking me this now, when I thought he barely picked up on that little piece of information. “Oh, there were all kinds of dreams. Some in which you were a warrior fighting through masses of people.”

“And other types?”

“Sometimes I would see Jimin or Booker or Taehyung in the dreams.”

“And the dreams of me were just the warrior ones?” he was looking right at me, and I had to swallow first before I answered. I didn't want to choke on a lie.

"Yes, just those ones."

"Why," he turned his body towards my side, "Are you lying?" His voice had taken on a dark husky tone of accusation.

"I'm n-not." I defended, just about to climb off the chair when a hand on the bare skin of my thigh stunned me. Like a hot branding iron, his fingers lay on my skin screaming for a reaction, and it took all my might to place my concentration elsewhere. But the only thing that was visible enough to distract me, was his face, the very same face that flustered me. This close, there was no escaping the loud thumping of my heartbeat, and in the silence, I was sure that even he could hear it. We were so close - I'm not even sure if I, unaware, drifted closer into his vicinity, so close that the heat from his lips touched my cheek. His hand remained on my thigh, unmoving. 

"If I told you, what would you do?"

"What do you want me to do?" he was almost purring, the hand on my thigh working up a gradual motion as he held my gaze. 

It could have been easy (I was protected by the darkness) to just blurt out, "Yeah, some of my dreams are X-rated and sometimes I wake up wishing they were real!", but I was tongue-twisted. His close proximity - the fresh scent of the shower he must have taken which still dampened his hair - was dizzying to the point that I practically jumped off the chair and went straight to the fridge. I frowned, looking for something and nothing at the same time, just stood there soaking up the cold and hoping it would be enough to douse the heat I was suddenly feeling in places I shouldn't be thinking of. So caught up in trying to mask his affect on me, I didn't hear him walk up behind me until the warmth of his hand engulfed the one I was using on the fridge door. Gently, he closed the door until the light from inside disappeared and we were left in darkness again. Alone. In the dark. _Breathe Y/N._

"I think it's time you told me just exactly what it is you dream about me."

"Why is it so important."

"It's enough to cause goosebumps across your skin." His fingers traveled across my forearm. "It's clearly enough to make you break a sweat." I gasped when his fingers brushed against the moisture on my neck.

"It's not w-what you think it is."

"Then tell me, Y/N, are you afraid of me?" His breath was searing against my ear, and obeying involuntary movement, I found myself turning to face him. This was not the time to act brave, I tried to remind myself, but it was as if my body and mind were disconnected. My arms lifted and ascended to his shoulders, strong and muscular and warm. I closed my eyes and closed the distance in the same breath, thankfully sighing when our lips had finally met. It felt like those dramatized movie scenes; when the love interests share their first kiss after much angst and obstacles. It was even better than those silly dreams I'd had for years. Nothing could compare to how soft and luscious his lips were, how gentle his movements were, how welcome the intrusion of his tongue was. 

Apple juice.

I then realized that the empty glass on the table contained apple juice.

That's the subtle fragrant taste I discovered on his tongue. Suddenly I was hyper alert - associating trivial things with this very moment in an effort to make it last forever. Maybe our lives were measured like that, but a first kiss with the man-of-my-dreams wouldn't, and I _needed_ to remember it for the rest of my life. 

I was clambering for air, but my dying lungs could withstand a little more of the kiss I wasn't ready to let go off. I found a handful of thick hair just above his nape, where I grabbed onto and pulled him closer (an impossibility) and ravished his mouth. He was enjoying this just as much as I was, I could tell from the way his eager lips danced according to mine. I was so sure I would evaporate if I didn't take at least one breath, but who was to say I wouldn't disappear if he stopped kissing me? One very strong emotion overcame me the moment our lips parted ways and our foreheads connected.

"That's," he was so out of breath he almost didn't make any sense (or maybe my own mind was fluttering too much), "What you dream about?"

I nodded my response, unable to move or speak. My mind and heart raced, and the only way I knew how to put both to rest, was to entertain it to a peak. 

"Actually, much, much more."

A mixture of amusement and concern swept across his face. "You'll show me?" 

We were locking lips again, only this time my hands, even through the tingling in my nerves, worked efficiently to undo the buttons of his sleep shirt. Revealed to me was what I would from that moment refer to as heaven - lean muscles clothed in the softest, richly tanned skin. My hands were all over him, my thumbs circling each of his pert nipples. His whispered moans as my lips skimmed every accessible area were electrifying, dampening my core to the point of insanity. I must be crazy, I thought, but I waited years for this moment, waited without guarantee of it ever coming true. All we have is now, no promise of what tomorrow might bring, and I would be a fool not to give in. I kissed my way back up his neck, savoring the rich taste of _man,_ the only man who could induce this type of behavior from me. The type of ravenous behavior that had me tugging his pants down, reaching into his underwear and holding his cock in my hand. All I could think about was how big he was, how powerful he is and how big his cock is. 

"You want me to show you?" 

He replied with a strangled "Yes." just as I gently squeezed his shaft. 

I was on my knees then, moving my hand along his shaft slowly, building and building until I was pleased with the amount of precum that had escaped the tip. I moistened my lips then stuck my tongue out, gathered the little drops and swallowed, closing my eyes to wallow in the bitter-sweet flavour. He was watching me, watching my every expression and every move, through eyes that had turned jet black. He closed them the moment my mouth closed over the head of his cock, and I had never been _this_ turned on in my life. I was taking as much of him as my mouth would allow, not nearly all of his generous length, but enough to tickle the back of my throat and remind me that I needed to hold off the urge to gag. His dexterous fingers positioned through my hair, and as I began moving my lips back and forth, occasionally twirling my tongue along the ragged veins straining against the taut velvet-like skin of his cock, his grip tightened until he was pulling me off him. Pulling me off the floor and slamming my ass into the kitchen table. The empty apple juice glass was knocked to its side, the clinking echoing through the air of silence we were trying our best to maintain. But nevermind that - we were not nearly interested in breaking a glass. No. He was aiming for the t-shirt. Clawing until the sound of cotton being ripped apart broke through the silence and his appreciation for my naked breasts came in the form of a guttural groan. I pulled him into my embrace, sighing when the tip of his cock just brushed along my folds. I was clenching around nothing, pleading with my fisted hands on his shoulders to give me everything. Whatever he said, or asked before he took his length in his hand and lined it with my eager hole, was lost in the sound of a knock on the door. 

My eyes sprung open and then it struck me. 

I was dreaming again.

I have dealt with many types of situations before; from extremely delicate to life-or-death seriousness. But the awkward one I had to deal with just outside the room door made me hesitant. I had to constantly remind myself that it was all a dream - something only I knew about. 

"Good morning." Jimin greeted bubbly. 

"Morning." I blinked to adjust to my surroundings. The cabin didn't look as eerie as it did the night before. Now, the kitchen table (yes, the very same one) was blanketed in sliced fruits and fresh steaming pancakes. The chef, manning the stove, turned to give a curt nod, and Jimin went up behind him for a back hug. Booker was where I'd seen him last - at his desk typing away - and the culprit of my very vivid dream emerged from the bathroom, hair damp just the way it was in my dream.

Gulp.

"Y/N, since you're awake already, would you mind taking a drive down to the city with me?" 

"What about breakfast?" Taehyung complained from the kitchen.

"Breakfast can wait. Y/N?" 

I quickly nodded when Seokjin looked at me for an answer. I couldn't look him straight in the eye, kept my gaze lowered, but I was sure my face looked as heated as I was feeling. I rushed to get dressed and reached the car before he did. It was locked.

"Hey, you don't look well." Seokjin stood on the other side of the car. 

"I'm fine." I climbed into the car and made a concerted effort of wearing my safety belt. 

"You didn't ask where or why we're going." 

"Do I need to?"

"Well," Seokjin put the car into gear, "I was hoping you'd have more questions today."

"Why?"

"Because I have some of my own."

Oh dear God.

***


End file.
